Monsters in the Night
by Eisee does it
Summary: If Loki is the monster others tell their children about at night, what monsters does he tell his children about? Mpreg, angst.


Title: Monsters in the Night

Author: Eiseedoesit

Rating: T

Warnings: Mpreg; child abuse/neglect; thoughts of murder/suicide

Disclaimer: No characters, places, or objects are mine. This is fanfic, written for fun not profit.

Summary: If Loki is the monster others tell their children about at night, what monsters does he tell his children about? Mpreg, angst.

A/N: Wrote this about a year ago and never posted it. Recently found it again and thought, 'Eh, why not?' even though I kinda wanna go back in time to punch myself in the face for even thinking of this bizarre tale. But anyways…

Written with no beta so all mistakes are mine. I'm also well aware that Loki did not give birth to all his kids, but since Loki being a mom is a guilty pleasure (and hey, Mommy's Day is around the corner) I figured why not? **Warning**: contains **child neglect/abuse**; **not** the sexual kind, but it may be a bit too harsh for some. Also, **contemplations of murder-suicide**.

* * *

"I'm the monster parents tell their children about at night."

* * *

His diligent eyes watched her tremble as she slept.

Even in her dreams he could sense her fears, feel the familiar wavering of strength that threatened tears. Many times he watched her like this; each time dreading that it might be the last. The sight of her shivering from the nightmare, tears seeping from clenched eyes and lips twisting into a scream nearly made him reach out for her. He almost did, but he kept himself still. He did not know what he would do if she awoke. He didn't want to hear her voice, see her smile, and allow her to cry into his arms. She would break his resolve. And he could not afford to change what he was determined to do, no matter how much his heart already grieved because of it.

A sharp strike of lightening pierced the furious night.

The child leapt from her bed, the screams from her nightmare bursting into reality. When she finally noticed his presence, the fear in her eyes melted into both horror and joy. She stared at him, half afraid that he was just an illusion that would fade at her touch. She had so many dreams as of late, all of them ending with him crushed, beaten, and killed. His presence, so close and so alive after seeing him die countless times in her dreams was too much for the child's heart to bear.

"Mother?" The word, so frail and soft, felt like a sword through his side.

"Hel," He reached out, gently pulling her long slivery hair from her face. Already his resolve crumbled. For all of Loki's weaknesses, she was his greatest one, and for a few moments the evil mission he sought out to do was forgotten. His hands were kind and tender as he traced her chin, lifting her head up. He smiled, almost laughing as he watched her doubts fade into a smile of her own. She leapt up, arms swinging around him as she cried once more, this time not of fear but of sheer happiness.

Loki tried to keep himself composed, reserving whatever dignity he believed he still possessed.

But when he felt her tiny fists gripping against his heart and heard her broken voice begging him not to leave, the weight of their separation felt more potent and cutting.

"Don't go away, please mother, please…"

Her eyes flew wide with when she smelled something metallic and pungent against her cheek. She pulled back, the side of her face that once rested against her father's chest felt strangely cold against the air. In the flash of lightning she saw her hands were stained from the blood she had unknowingly twisted out of Loki's clothes. Every time Loki visited her, he was always dressed as any true born prince of Asgard. Many times Hel would wait by the window of her room, searching through the trees of any sight of her father's familiar gold and green. Now the once soft and pristine material was dripping in blood, dark, cold, and wet.

"No, no," Loki instantly soothed her cries, "It is not my blood. Hush now."

"It pains me to see you like this." He wiped the blood from her face. The disgusting smear against her pale skin sent a twist through his heart. He couldn't resist the thoughts and fears shaping in his mind. How much of her blood would his enemies spill should they ever find her? How deeply would they hurt her?

"Mother, please," There were so many questions to be asked, so many things she wanted to tell him. But the only words she could form were just pleas for him to never abandon her again.

But what Hel couldn't say, her eyes conveyed. And it was through those eyes Loki could recall each of his children, how they once looked at him with the same frightened desperation. And by holding his only daughter so close did he painfully recall each time he was powerless to save them.

"I will not leave you," Loki promised her, "Not tonight. I'll be here." He lifted her tiny body, cradling her in his arms longer than he ever did his other children. It almost made him laugh to think how much those fleeting moments could haunt him for eternity. Though she possessed none of the wild deformities of her brothers he could still see a bit of them in her, especially in her eyes that burned with tears, and her hold of him that did not diminish in strength.

"Where have you gone?" Hel asked, "Grandmother said you were—she said you fell."

_Of course she did_, Loki thought, _Mother wouldn't have the heart to tell Hel that I died. She wouldn't have the heart to believe it herself._ For all the power the great Queen of Asgard wielded, she had a tender heart with seemingly limitless compassion. Frig wouldn't have the heart to tell Hel the truth, not even the in evident face of her father's death. For an instant, Loki felt like a lost child again longing for his mother's presence. Although they were not connected by blood, Frig was always more of a mother to him than Odin was a father, or Thor a brother. She loved him enough to help conceal Hel even if it would be deemed as an act of treachery to keep such a secret from the All-Father. The price for Hel's safety was high, but the Queen did not hesitate, and in doing so proved the depths of her devotion for her wayward son. And even now, through all his crimes and sins Loki couldn't help but still yearn for her comfort.

"Your grandmother," Loki asked, "Is she well? When did you see her last?"

"Today. She told me to stay here, like always, and to never let anyone in."

Hel pointed to her neck, afraid to touch the deformity yet wishing to show her father. The growing mark on her skin terrified her so much she refused to look at it herself, trusting her grandmother to tend to the wound whenever Frig would visit. At first the Queen could heal her, but the older Hel became the rot's resistance grew until finally not even Frig could help her.

"She tried to stop it. But it refuses to heal." Hel said softly, "It has already spread."

Loki brushed the long hair away from his daughter's face, pulling the tresses back to observe the crook of her neck where he last saw the rot. It was still there, ugly and dark and reeking of decay. Only this time it had grown, appearing like a tiny black hand of rotting flesh. He could see beyond the peeled skin, right to where muscle, bone, and gore threatened to gush out. And the rot was creeping, slowly but surely up towards her neck, a tendril of dark blue twirling right at her jaw. The decay also reached out towards her thin shoulders, like long, thin, daggers cutting away at the pale flesh.

"I didn't dare ask grandmother, I feared her answer too much. But I know it won't stop." Hel said, trembling, "It's rotting. I'm rotting."

"No my child." Loki said, "No."

"I'm dying."

"No dearest one. You will not die." Loki said, his voice sharp and determined. Yet his eyes grew heavy with the lies he spoke, "Gods do not die."

Loki remembered when he first saw her, how impossibly perfect she was after she came screaming into the world. He pulled her out from within him, being alone and terrified as he fought to give her life. She took the most out of him. Out of all his children he gave her life at the cost of nearly losing his own. He expected another monster, what he got was beauty defined. And that made her all the more precious to him.

He didn't expect to have such a perfect child. He didn't expect to love another so deeply. And now he wished he never had.

"I love you mother." Hel said softly, her voice barely even a sound. "Don't leave me."

Love.

Love that brought forth weakness.

Weakness he couldn't afford.

"No. I will never leave you,"

Loki drew her tightly against his heart. He held her head close to him so much that he doubted if she could hear anything else but his beating heat. He kissed the top of her head, the soft brush of her hair suddenly wet from the tears he couldn't contain. Her eyes closed, enjoying the comfort of his presence, trusting the security of his promises.

"And I love you greatly my dearest child,"

Loki closed his eyes, drawing what little bit of magic he had left to complete the task he set forth to do.

"More than anything else. More than anyone else."

He felt the knife materialize in his hand, the cold, lifeless steel taking its deadly form.

"I won't let them hurt you."

Loki shook, sobbing while his daughter held tightly to him, unaware of his intent.

"I know mother," Hel whispered against his heart, "I know you won't let anyone hurt me."

The trust in her voice, the love that was carried in those words stilled the blade in his hand.

"Where did you go?" Hel asked, "When you fell?"

"I do not know," Loki said, "I was searching for something." In his thoughts he saw the children he lost, the stallion, wolf, and serpent. He imagined Hel with them.

"Did you find what you sought out for? Is that why you returned?"

"No." Loki answered, gripping the knife yet refusing to do through with the act, "No. I did not find it. I returned because there was no other way. No other solution."

When Loki fell from the shattered bifrost into the abyss he longed for death. The physical pain he had felt paled to the torment that tortured his heart, the truth that burned away every hope he held and destroyed whatever love he had for his treacherous father and brother. As he fell deeper into the darkness of space, falling by upon worlds unknown he was saved by a being who not only promised him vengeance but also a way to achieve it.

Thanos all but seduced him with visions of power and supremacy. Under Thanos' visions he saw glimpses to worlds and realities he craved for, the possibilities of another life creating an unquenchable thirst. Thanos opened his mind to other universes, different yet familiar to his own, alternate realities that tempted him to pursue them at the cost of his sanity.

He saw horrible things. Terrifying, heartbreaking memories of his life and loss. He relived a childhood of love, laughter, and happiness for his brother and one of doubt and insecurity for him. He saw all the adoration lavished on Thor. He saw the many times Frigg would seek him and tell him that she loved him just as much as she did his golden-haired brother. He relived how stupidly naïve he was, how desperate he was for any affirmation that he belonged in that world, that he was worthy of being a son of Odin.

And with a ruined heart he saw the cruelty fate dealt him. How he gave way to Thor at every chance. How he tried to be an equal in something, be a hero rather than a shadow. He watched as he was tossed aside in favor of his better brother. He felt the hope he bore that fateful day as he chased the monstrous stallion Svaðilfari away in order to save the kingdom he longed to defend. And then once again he felt the violent reward for his deeds, of how he was too disgraced to return after the beast was through with him. The long, empty months in exile haunted him still, the days full of terror in the knowledge that a monster grew within him.

A roar of thunder and lightning shattered the night. Hel gasped at the shock that clapped deeply through the storm.

"Mother?" Hel said, refusing to rise from where her head rested upon Loki's heart.

"Does the storm scare you?"

"Yes," Hel answered. Loki could have laughed at the irony.

"The lightning won't hurt you," He assured her. He stroked her hair, the long strands shining silver in the night as they slipped through his fingers, recalling the one she reminded him of, "Lightning can never hurt you."

He felt her calmness return at his words. He raised the knife, his strength wavering.

"You won't let anyone hurt me," Hel said, "You promised me a long time ago. I never forgot."

Loki looked down at her. One hand drifted over her eyes to keep her from turning. The other one held the knife.

Just one sure, swift push and it would be over. She would die, forever a perfect memory of his last remaining child rather than spending the centuries melting away into a rotting corpse. Or worse, be found by his many enemies and tortured for his failures.

This was right wasn't it? Protecting her from them?

Sending her somewhere far, far away where no one could harm her?

And then he'll go after her.

They wouldn't be separated any longer.

By the strike of the knife their suffering would all end.

"And I won't let anyone hurt you either mother," Hel said, just as Loki was to deliver the lethal blow. There was a change in her voice, the timidity replaced by a mix of desperation and resolve, "I promise you that."

Frustrated tears seeped from his eyes. With a soundless cry he crushed the knife into dust, the weight dematerializing through his fingers.

It was like this every time he tried to take the life of his children. When Selphnir was born he wanted to leave the foal in the forest, never wanting to have any remembrance of the violation he endured. But as the deformed beast struggled to breathe Loki found himself unable to forsake it. It would have been so easy then to just destroy the monster, crush each one of those hideous legs and allow wild beasts to finish the rest. The foal was a far cry from the appearance of a god, much less one from the great house of Odin. And yet Loki could not bring himself to abandon it. He remembered how he felt the first time Selphnir stood on his own. There was something in the foal's eyes that called to him, a quiet intelligence that knew of the bond between them. It was then that Loki truly felt love, pure and unconditional being returned to him.

The house of Odin, for all their splendor and majesty did not measure an ounce of what he felt for Selphnir in those few days they spent in the peaceful darkness of the forest. The misshapen beast, so strange and pitiful in many ways, was the only piece of the universe he could truly call his own. And whenever Selphnir's warm breath brushed against his hands, and those sharp, smart eyes gazed adoringly at him, Loki just smiled in wonder at the love he felt for his son.

When Loki returned to Asgard and presented the foal to Odin he never saw the intelligent gleam in those eyes ever again. It would be years later, through Thanos' help that he learned how Odin stripped Selphnir of his intelligence til he was nothing more than another dumb animal. His son forever forced to be a slave by his own fault. He should have never trusted Odin. He hated himself for ever believing the All-Father cared for his happiness. He should have never left Selphnir to the All-Father's will. But alas, he did not know the truth back then. And so he made the same mistake with his other children.

Like Fenrir, the wolf cub he bore. The blood hadn't even been wiped clean before he was taken and bound before his eyes. Like a fool he allowed them to cover his second son with chains. Like a fool he believed Odin's promise that the child would only be restrained until they found a way to change him, heal him. How many countless years did he wait for a cure that would never come? How many years did he visit his son and saw the chains cutting deeply into fur and flesh? He remembered reaching out for Fenrir, shaking fingers brushing over the blood and gore that matted the battered body of his son. Not a beast or a monster. But his own son.

Anyone who was brave enough to look into Fenrir's eyes could see the fear that festered in him. It wasn't the mindless gaze of a wild animal, but the seeking eyes of a child hungry for light and comfort. Loki had tried to poison him out of mercy but could never bring himself to deliver the toxin. He would simply stay there in the darkness, making false promises of finding a way to free him one day. Then one day he found a chance to fulfill those promises. Thanos. Knowledge. Power. But now Thor and his allies took that chance away.

And then Jörmungandr. The child he believed he lost at birth. He never even got a moment to hold him. There wasn't even a body for him to mourn over. He was told that the child came out as a rotting troll that melted into a pool of blood as soon as the light touched its' mangled body. But like everything else he heard in Asgard, that too was a lie. Thanos revealed how the child was born cursed with the appearance of a serpent and cast out by Odin into an unknown sea.

Loki's hatred for his father and brother flared with renewed vigor. The very knowledge that he once loved them made his heart sicken from disgust. In spite of all the evil and lies he endured from them he still longed for their acceptance and love, he was willing to scheme and kill for it. And he did. But it was never enough. Not even after murdering his birth father and nearly extinguishing the Jojthems. Not even after losing the children of his own flesh. In the end he received rejection from the family he so desperately wanted to belong to.

He knew what they thought of him—a traitor, a liar, a master of deceit, a villain…but they were the ones who taught him those things. They left him no choice but to become the monster. He tried to be a hero, to do noble, just, and courageous things for the sake of his family and kingdom. His reward came with the loss of his children and the truth that he was nothing more than a stolen relic.

"I promise. I won't let them hurt you," Hel's words meant more to him than she knew.

He wanted to kill her, not out of hate but of his own wrapped sense of kindness. He would rather grant her a swift, painless death in his arms rather than see her enslaved by the devices of his enemies. And yet he couldn't. Just as he couldn't bring himself to forget the sons he lost. There was still hope, no matter how small, that he would find a way to free not only himself but his children. And it was a hope he would destroy a world for.

Loki gathered Hel up in his embrace, lifting her face and gazing upon her with a broken smile.

"You are far too young for such promises," Loki laughed, but Hel looked determined, "Enough of these tears. Shall I tell you a story I learned while I was away?"

"Yes mother," Hel nodded. Her mother had a wonderful way of weaving words and spinning tales. She loved hearing his stories, if only to hear the warm soothing sound of his voice. To her it was the most beautiful sound, and his stories the most treasured tales of all.

"There was once a king," Loki began, "He was a vile, vicious, and evil king."

"What did this king do?" Hel asked.

Loki's voice was soft and unbroken.

"He stole children."

There was once a time he would have feared speaking against his so-called father. But that time was long gone.

"This evil king stole many children away." Loki continued, "But there was a child that was hidden far from his grasp. This child was a princess. The most wonderful child in all the nine realms. Her mother, desperate to save her, hid her within an enchanted forest where the King could never find her."

Hel listened intently. Loki soothed her fears as he rocked her. She was his only daughter, and in truth the only child he had left. Before she was even born he schemed, lied, and killed to ensure her safety. And he would continue to do so if it meant she wouldn't share the fate of her brothers.

"But then it all changed," Loki went on, "Now it was not just the evil King who sought to hurt her. For there were other monsters lurking in the night."

Hel's wide eyes trembled, her imagination casting images of fierce monsters in her mind. Her father's words only made them appear more cruel and heartless.

"There was a cruel knight covered in iron. The brilliant gold of his armor was stained red from the blood of the slaughtered. He would conjure fire from his deadly hands, flames bursting out as he tore through the forest, seeking for the little princess. Not far behind, a corrupt captain awaited in the shadows. This captain was hailed as righteous and pure by his mindless followers, but in truth he was worse than a beast, killing his opposition in the name of liberty."

"Were there more monsters?"

"Yes. Many more," Loki replied, "There was a horrible beast that destroyed everything in its blind rage. But this monster was clever and disguised himself as a mere man, waiting for the right time to unleash his brutal strength. The darkness of the forest brought no shortage of dangers. The nights were filled with liars, murderers, and spies all ready to snatch the little princess away."

"Did they?" Hel asked.

"No," Loki answered, "Her mother did not allow it. Through blood and tears the little princess grew up to be powerful warrior. She freed her four brothers and together they took back what was ripped away from them. One brother she freed from the evil king's grasp, for he had been a slave, treated like a common animal. The princess saved him and gave him back his thoughts and his heart. Her second brother she freed from the cruel chains that bound him to the earth. And together they found their lost brother who was cast out into the sea."

Hel couldn't understand why her mother suddenly stopped, why a shadow of regret fell upon the face she loved so dearly.

"But you said there were four brothers. You only mentioned three." Hel said, urging Loki to continue, "What happened to the fourth brother?"

"The fourth brother," Loki replied, "Is a prince dwelling with common mortals, unaware of those who truly love him."

"But why is he with mortals?" Hel asked, "Was he cast out by the evil king? Or cursed? Bound?"

"No dear child," Loki said, "Their mother had to leave him behind to protect him."

"She abandoned him?" Hel asked, "Why—"

"No," Loki said, his voice a bit harsher than intended, "His mother had no choice. She was being chased, persecuted. She couldn't risk her youngest child being captured by the monsters seeking her. So she left him under the care of others, vowing to return. She never abandoned him, Hel. Every moment since he left her arms she thought of nothing else but holding him again. All of them."

Loki closed his eyes, conjuring up the image of his youngest child. Like his brothers and sister before him, he was unexpected and ill-conceived. After what happened with his first four children he swore he would never bear another child into existence. The pattern of violence, betrayal, and separation had damaged him so deeply he feared another loss would destroy him completely. But then again he was never so fortunate.

* * *

When he found himself once again with child he gathered his magic and hid in Midgard as a mortal woman. Thanos and his minions were after him for his failure to retrieve the Tesseract. Thor and his allies were searching unceasingly for him since he managed to escape from their clutches. He knew he couldn't stay long, but he needed to risk it just long enough to give his youngest child a chance to live. That was the most he could give, and it might also be the only thing he would ever give.

For months he hid like a rat, scavenging through the trash and filth for food and shelter. To this humiliation and rage he discovered that the city he was transported to was the same one that should have witnessed the birth of his glorious reign…if it weren't for his brother and those accursed Avengers.

It drove him mad to see their tower, so proud and mighty above the city. The streets were filled with their images and symbols, the mindless crowds cheering, crying, and applauding their glorious acts. Their faces played in his restless mind, and in the long months of his exile Loki unceasingly fueled his hatred for each one of them. Soon he discovered he craved their ruin as deeply as he did Thor's. It was one of the few comforts he had, to conjure up the various ways he could inflict suffering upon them. And this suffering he wished for them would not be quick, no. It would sink deeply not only in their bodies, but their very minds and souls. He would torture them in every way, as long and painfully as he was. He thought of it constantly. While he imagined their anguish he found that he forgot about his.

So the months passed, the child grew, and the winds brought a wild and furious winter. The entire city drowned in a haze of snow and ice, the storm so full of anger and death Loki feared that one of his enemies might have conjured it.

It was a dark, frigid night when the waters broke and the labor pains began. The cruel blizzard had no intention of ceasing, pouring down heavy gusts of snow as he crawled into deep into an alley. The lights were gone; the storm had left the world in pure darkness. Loki imagined he was in Jojemheim, the frost giants all around him, their long, hideous, blue faces staring down at him as he fought to bring his last child into a world that did not want him.

He expected to birth the child alone, just as he did his other children. But it was not so. He had been ready to bear the pain in silence when he felt a hand hold his. He was ready to push the offender away when to his surprise a light broke through the dark. An older woman looked down at him, her eyes were bright and moist, her pale face a picture of genuine concern. She talked with him, encouraging him through the labor. She never let go of his hand no matter how intense his grip became.

She was joined by a tall, slender, kind looking man who helped pull the child out. Loki could still remember how frigid he felt with stone, snow and ice all around him, the only warmth coming from the blood rapidly gushing out of him. He recalled how the man took of his coat and wrapped the wet, whining bundle, doing his best of protect the newborn from the biting winds. The light flickered. The woman helped lift Loki's head high enough to see the child.

"We gotta get you both to a hospital." The man said, his breath heavy and rushed, "You need to see a doctor. You lost way too much blood."

"There's no way we can get her there,"

Loki felt the coldness seep past his skin, sinking into his bones. Not even the blood felt warm.

"The roads are dead." The woman continued, "There's no way you'll get there with all those accidents." Loki groaned, his eyes rolling back. He felt like it was encased in ice.

"Then we gotta get them inside. Take the baby. I'll carry her." Without a moment of hesitation the stranger and his lady switched. Loki struggled to see where the child was; fearing what would happen if the stream of light the woman carried revealed it to be deformed. Would they cast it away like the gods did to the others?

He felt himself being lifted up, the snow falling away from him as the tall man trudged through the blizzard. He reached out for the baby the other Midgardian was staring at, part of him wanting to fight free and flee with the child while the other part simply wanted to beg. Begging was something Loki despised, it made him feel powerless and pitiful. But right now, as the Midgardian woman stared at the child Loki was pleading with her not to harm it. It all felt like a dream, a long and dark, painful dream.

"It's alright Miss," The man said, his voice deep, smooth, and reassuring, "You'll be alright. You and your little boy."

"A son?" Loki whispered.

"Yes, with the biggest, brightest, most beautiful brown eyes I've ever seen," The woman said, catching up to them, carefully shielding the child from the cold. She kept her gaze on the child, a sort of sadness laced behind her comforting words, "He's absolutely perfect."

And perfect he truly was. After Loki was brought into the couple's home, they quickly set up a place to tend to both him and the child. Loki spent the entire time keeping the child close to him, wondering how something so innocent and sweet could have come from something so violent and brutal. Like the Midgardians said, his son had hypnotically bright eyes. He remembered Selphnir's eyes then. How strange it was that his sons looked so radically different yet shared a common trait. The brilliant eyes shone with unnatural intelligence, as if the child could already think, feel, and understand the thoughts of the one holding him so gently.

The Midgardian woman came in and out of the room frequently, offering Loki blankets, food, and water. Loki didn't miss how her gaze would drift and stay on his newborn before quickly leaving, only to repeat the process again. She was so attentive and careful around him and the child, and though her smile was kind and warm the longing in her gaze was shamelessly clear. After she retired for the night, the man stayed with Loki, his elderly face apologetic.

"I apologize. My wife, Mary, she can be a bit overwhelming at times," The Midgardian said, "Guess it's the maternal instinct in her, but she truly means well."

Loki did not respond. The man waited patiently, watching as their strange guest looked around the room. It was an odd chamber, messy and littered with papers and books that overflowed from the shelves to the floor. Incoherent scribbles were written on the wall, the markings appearing more like that of a mad man than one of science. The window was frosted over, offering a dull blue haze as light. But the object that caught Loki's attention was a clear, solid jar beside the couch he rested upon. The jar had a transparent yellowish hue, giving it a soft, gentle glow in the night. He reached out a hand to touch it, the glass was wet upon his fingers. Within the jar, suspended in the middle like moment stolen from time, was a tiny, dark creature.

"Hope you're not afraid of spiders," The man said, "The room's full of them. Not live ones though. Mainly just drawings, a small collection really. They're fascinating creatures to study."

As Loki continued to stare at the creature, the child in his arms began to cry.

"I'm sorry Miss but I don't think you ever told us your name,"

Loki answered in silence.

"Well then," The man tried again, being more patient than most, "Is there anyone you can call? Family? A boyfriend or husband?"

"Why?"

The Midgardian wasn't exactly sure how to respond.

"So we can let them know you're right." He finally answered, dispelling the tense silence that came between them.

"No. Not that," Loki said. He turned away from the spider jar. Even in the dim light the Midgardian could sense the confusion and weariness of those words, "Why did you help me?"

"Well Miss," The man replied, "We saw you were in trouble…"

"It was none of your concern. I didn't ask for help."

"But you needed it," The man answered, "That's all that mattered."

Loki thought him a fool, a stupid and naïve fool. Yet a sincere one. A strong part of him wondered if the man would still be so kind and generous if he knew the truth about his guests. Or if the truth would simply drive him mad. Loki observed him carefully, reading into his motions for any sign of ill-intent. He found none.

"You see Miss," The man said, reaching over to inspect a jar with a spider in it, "When people need help it's not really a choice for me. It's more like a….well…my father would always say it's more like a responsibility. If I can do something good then it's my moral obligation to help."

"And do you teach the same sentiment to your children?" Loki asked. He looked down at the child in his arms, his heart aching at how familiar those brown eyes were to him. He didn't even realize the Midgardian had yet to reply.

"We have none," The man finally answered, "It—it's hard for my wife. She would have been a terrific mother."

"Perhaps," Loki said softly, "She may yet be."

"I'm afraid not," The kind man smiled and sighed, his voice betraying him, "Not unless we adopt anyways. She…I'm sorry, I just—"

"Don't wish to share personal matters with a stranger," Loki said, "Of that, I can respect and understand."

The baby suddenly cried, fussing and fighting in his mother's arms. Loki soothed him the best he could, and eventually the child's screams became little sniffles and whines.

"He's got a set of lungs on him," The man joked, wishing to divert the subject, "Have you given him a name?"

Loki stroked his son's soft, tender cheeks as he looked up to met the Midgardian's gaze.

"What is yours?"

"Mine?"

"Yes," Loki said, "Who can I thank for giving us shelter?"

The man straightened his glasses and extended his hand with a gentle smile.

"Richard Parker."

Loki stared at the hand for a few seconds, as if debating on the meaning, and finally took it on his own and shook it, as the Midgardian custom.

"Thank you for your kindness," Loki said, glancing towards Mary who was trying to keep out of sight behind the door, "I hope to reward it somehow."

"There is no need. Just helping when we can."

Loki did not reply. He simply turned his gaze towards his new born son, brought him close to his heart, and rocked the child into a peaceful slumber.

When the man and woman, mortals that they are, grew tired and took their rest, Loki made a choice. It would be painful, but it would hurt less the sooner he left. It was difficult for him to pry his eyes from his child, so peaceful and unaware, the innocence too much to carry in arms soaked with blood. Loki cradled his youngest son gently, his body shaking as he summoned what little strength remained.

"Forgive me my son." Loki said, tracing the face of the newborn, "There is little I can do. But I will let no harm befall you."

The child was sound asleep, and Loki felt his spirit crumble as he realized that once again he would lose another child. How many more, he wondered. How many more of his children had to be taken from him? How many could he save?

"I will return my son,"

The tears he did not spend on the All-Father, his brother, or any other living creature broke through, dropping silently on his son's face as he kissed him.

"I will return, I promise you that. And no one. No one will ever keep you apart from me."

Loki kissed the sleeping child and the pain which never faded in his soul deepened as he laid the child down upon the make-shift crib.

"But for now, my son," Loki whispered as he stood, "Forgive me."

The storm kept raging and Loki's spirit grew colder than the winter as he turned away from his son's growing cries.

By the time Richard Parker found the baby alone, Loki was barely visible in the snow. The Midgardian ran after him, shouting for him to return. But the god of mischief was gone, vanishing in a flash of snow as if eaten by the wind.

* * *

"But one day, they will all be together again. The princess, her brothers, and their mother." Hel said, her eyes bright and hopeful, "They won't be apart."

"And together they will bring an end to the evils that haunt them." Loki smiled as his only daughter leaned against him, her trust in his goodness unwavering.

A web of lightning and thunder boomed across the sky. Hel cried out and sank within her mother's protective embrace.

"I'm scared." Hel gripped Loki tightly, "Mother I—"

"Hush now," Loki soothed her, "The lightning won't hurt you. I won't allow it."

And may all the gods in all the worlds know that if she ever was hurt, he would make that incident in Midgard look like a mere bruise.

"You would stop the lightning?"

"Yes,"

"W—won't it hurt?"

"Yes,"

"Then…why would you do it even if it hurt?" Hel asked, patiently awaiting her mother's reply, "Why?"

"Because I love you greatly. And it is not enough to love someone that means the world to you. No. My love is not quite like that. I love you more than the meaning of this world or the next. You are not one to replace this world, but someone I would gladly burn it for. Now draw close to me, daughter, and rest your weary head. I will be here when you awake. But for now, listen to my voice and sleep."

"The lightning won't get me?"

"Never," Loki said, running his fingers gently atop his daughter's head. She drifted peacefully to sleep, her mother's presence calming her into slumber.

Loki however, found no peace.

"We will reclaim them all one day," The outcast god laughed bitterly, "No one will ever keep you apart from me. Even if I have to burn all the nine realms to have the power I need to bring you all back to me. I will. I promise."

His thoughts flew of each child taken from him, and his love for them strengthened his hatred for those who kept them from him, whether it was by necessity or choice.

"I promise…"

* * *

A/N: So this was written a year ago and I never posted cause I honestly thought (and still do) that this is 'punch myself in the face' cringe worthy. Possible bonus scene with Tony reassuring Lil Peter that the monsters aren't going to get him. Review so I know what you're thinking. Please? Baby Peter would want that :)


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